The Pert Penis Proposal
by CloudedCreation
Summary: Harry was being courted. With dildos, which, all right. slash. harry/colin. crack.


The first gift was an apron, which, while not exactly normal to receive without a note on December the first, wasn't really completely out there. And, what with him being the Boy-Who-Lived, he'd gotten somewhat used to receiving gifts for no apparent reason, Christmas wrapped or otherwise.

So he simply checked it for unlikeable curses and when finding none, hung it on a hook in his kitchen. It was a made of a nice material in a soft grey colour and he hadn't exactly gotten around actually buying one of his own yet, even though he had lived alone for over a year.

Molly was in fact quite ashamed.

The second gift laid innocently on his front porch the day after, wrapped in the same patterned paper – golden snitches wearing tiny Santa hats on a rich red background – and accompanied with a twig of fir with a red silk tie on. The following unwrapping revealed a painting, obviously with some hundred years on its back and worth more than all of Harry's brooms put together.

After going through the same process of checking for unwanted spells and such – Harry had the practice down to a t by this point in his life – the piece of art got an abode above the fireplace in his living room, easily seen from every angle.

Harry figured that it would please the naked man, being able to flash as many as possible.

The third gift got a home in his bathroom, what with it being a shower curtain. And if it was a little more see-through than anything he would have bought himself, well, gift-horses and their mouths.

It was after the seventh gift, that things really started to get out of hand. He could explain all the others away, unlikely as the justifications may be, but it was more than quite hard, _heh_, to reason away that one.

The hand with the dexterous and long, long fingers could be used as a place to put his rings. He only had the one, but it was plausible that the gift-giver could think he possessed more.

The book explicitly describing how to perform sex mano a mano with another man could simply be a way to correctly inform him of how one did such. Wizards didn't have any sex-ed in school after all and people might think that he hadn't learned from real life experience even after being completely out for several months.

And the collar, well that one could be for a dog. A big one. Which he had never had any plans on getting before, but now just might, because of reasons.

He'd call it Fluffy.

But no, it was the seventh gift which put the hypothetical nail in the just as hypothetical coffin.

Because a four inch long and one inch wide plastic, purple and pert dildo really only had one area of expertise.

Harry didn't dare to go out much when it was starting to get near Christmas, and when he actually did do so, well, he most certainly didn't go anywhere public after that one time four years ago.

He didn't like thinking of that time, really.

But even superheroes needed to buy Christmas presents for their godchildren. And yes, he was a superhero, because _Teddy –_ the godchild in question – said so. And if his pose was like that one Sailor Moon did though with his scar, well, _Teddy_ said she qualified into the Superheroes-Rank-Of-Superheroes-Who-Are-Very-Super-Thank-You-Very-Much so _yes_, Harry was a _superhero_.

Harry _Scarhead_ Potter.

He sincerely hoped that Malfoy would never learn of that.

So yeah, apparently, Harry was being courted. With invisible cloth and naked man-paintings and big, plastic _dicks_.

Highly unconventional if one were to consult an expert on wizard courting procedures, but meh. Harry had never done anything by the straight, proper path anyway. Bent roads and queer trails were his thing.

Anyway, if Harry had understood Hermione right – that one time when she decided than Ron really ought to do things the way his blood demanded of him, if he wanted to tap a piece of her more permanently – the guy was supposed to gift the female with one present a day for a twenty-five day period. Then, on the final day, they were supposed to meet and go out on a date. Most often the pair was already dating, but sometimes, they were not, which meant that occasionally, the proposer got a most unwelcome surprise. Which, not nice.

She had talked for about an hour or so, waving in weird patterns with her arms with accompanying strange noises, but that really was all he had gotten out from it. And he was collateral damage, seeing as the lecture had originally been meant for Ron and Ron alone, but Harry simply had been to close when she had started, firmly standing in the middle of the only doorway in a room with a ward against apparating.

He's quite certain that he fell asleep at one point.

But yeah, courting, a thing which apparently now also happened to Harry Potter.

The British Wizarding World had four major papers which came out somewhat regularly – The Daily Prophet, Witch Weakly, The Quibbler and The Boy-We-Love. The last one's sole topic is the life of Harry Potter, which, _coincidentally_, is him.

Some of the major headlines over the last year have been _Get your boyfriend to look like the B-W-L? Here's the new and improved Scar-Charm!_ and _Harry's abs on photo – they really are that defined! _and _The B-W-L is GAY!? _

This year's Holiday Special was dedicated solely to the potential boyfriends that he might have. He figure that they _figure_ that if they can't be with him themselves – because let's face it, at least 95% of the readers were female – then at least they should be able to choose who does.

The reason Harry wasn't the best of friends with Ginny any longer, was because she was one of the co-founders of the whole thing.

He wasn't particularly upset at not being giving his proposer's name – would be less mysterious that way, and life had been rather dull recently, what with the Dark Lord being completely deceased and all that – or that every gift he received had a more, or less, obvious sexual usage.

The large buttplug, everyone and their grandma would know what to do with. The stick with plenty of soft feathers on one end, on the other hand, was perfectly disguisable as a toy for the cat. Which he, just as the big dog, didn't own. But wizards, they really could believe in the craziest of things with the tiniest of evidence to back it up, so he didn't think that it would be a problem if someone asked.

He was a bit upset with the implication of him being female, though, but he guessed there could be worse things.

After having given it some thought – in his _bed_ - he wasn't upset at all over the blatantly sexual theme. In fact, he was quite certain that they were among the most used and loved gifts ever received in wizarding courting history.

His courter truly had been spot on, when he decided what to send him, something which could easily make or break a wooing.

And yeah, he really should get around telling his friends that that was a thing that happened now.

On day fourteen, Thing T. Thing got new rings to put on his fingers.

They vibrated.

So everything was nice and dandy in Harry Potter's life. He had a lovely house, the gnomes in his garden had started a farm with tiny chickens and fields – he took his rent in eggs, five each morning, and in return never tried to throw them out by their feet – and his relationship with Jeff was steadily improving.

By improving he meant that Jeff had agreed to not shed his clothes when Molly was in his vicinity, and that Harry would make it up to him by letting the forever youthful man be in the same room when Harry tried out his new gifts.

Jeff was the painting-dude, to clarify.

His original name – and really the one he preferred being used – was Geoffrey Alexander Valentine I've-got-more-middle-names-than-Dumbledore-but-Harry's-too-lazy-to-name-them Porpington, and he was distantly related to Near Headless Nick.

He wondered how the rest of the line had turned out.

He liked gift seventeen the most, if he had to choose just one.

The 'Most-Awesome-Yellow-Peepee-To-Ever-Exist-Which-Simply-Can't-Stop-Growing' was very awesome indeed, unfortunate as though the naming may be.

When Colin Creevey stood on his porch on December the twenty-fifth, a gift certificate in his hands and a red bow around his throat, Harry wasn't particularly surprised. Nr twenty being pictures of him in different positions – both naked and otherwise – starting from third year and up really had given it all away.

Which, he really should ask him sometime in the future just how he had done it, because Harry was quite certain that when he was in the prefects bathroom in year four, there was no one there with him but Myrtle and the mermaid.

They used up most of day thirteen's present – condoms and lube tasting like cranberry – that first night.

Jeff made a cheerful audience.

They got a cat. Harry _did_ like the collar.


End file.
